


Pathetic Fallacy

by MrProphet



Category: Baldi
Genre: Gen, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet





	Pathetic Fallacy

In the end, Tina kicked the door in. “Try not to drip on anything Paulo,” she told Baldi. “I’m already going to have to leave a note offering to pay for the damage to the door.”

“Well, as I said before, I don’t think anyone lives here,” Baldi replied. “It’s an old anchorage that the nuns at the convent don’t use anymore. The last anchoress here was the Blessed Susan, currently waiting on time and two more miracles to become a full saint.”

“Oh, great,” Tina grunted. “So we’re not trespassing on anyone’s home, just breaking and entering on holy ground.”

Baldi stopped in the doorway to the next room. “I shouldn’t worry,” he said. “I think whatever sanctity it had has been well and truly desecrated.”

A crash of thunder rolled across the ink-black sky.

“You wouldn’t believe it was three in the afternoon, would you?” Tina noted.

“It’s called a pathetic fallacy,” Baldi told her.

“I don’t think a priest should be feeling insecure over that kind of thing.”

“No, I mean the weather. When the weather mirrors the mood or the action of a piece; it’s called a pathetic fallacy.”

“Well I don’t see that there’s any mood to this piece that isn’t caused by the weather,” Tina replied.

“That’s because you haven’t looked in the bedroom.”

“Why, what’s in the… Oh my God!” Tina gasped. “I mean… sorry, Paulo.”

“It’s quite alright; it’s these little blasphemies that keep the confessionals in business. Besides, it isn’t quite what you could have expected.”

“Not what I could have expected?” Tina scoffed, recovering her sang froid with aplomb. “I followed you to shelter when the storm broke; I should have known better. What else would there be in a hut you picked out but a dead body?” She reached out and felt for a light switch.

“I don’t think the anchorage is on the mains,” Baldi said.

“Right; well you look out the back and see if there’s any sign of candles or torches. I’ll check the front room.”

“Right.”

They found over a dozen candles and Tina arranged them around the body in a circle so that there was plenty of light.

“I can’t get a signal on my mobile, so…” Tina held up her phone and took a picture of the body. “Photos and eyes only,” she added sternly. “Do not touch  _anything_ , Paulo; do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Baldi replied mildly. “But there’s a lot there just to look at.”

“I know,” she agreed. “It’s downright macabre. Laid out on the floor with coins on the eyes – the candles don’t help, I have to admit – and what’s been done to her hands?”

“The fingers have been broken,” Baldi said. “I wonder if she was a writer.”

Tina took a deep breath and counted slowly to three in her head. “Alright,” she said at last. “Tell me why broken fingers suggests a writer?”

“Well, let’s consider what else we can see. Coins over the eyes to stop her seeing; coins in her ears…”

“Really?”

“Well, you can see one on the right where her hair’s fallen back; I presume there’s one on your side as well. That would be to stop her hearing.”

“You think? In my experience, the bullet wound to the chest would have done that right enough.”

“Practically, yes, but this is all, ah… Well, I hate to sound like a broken record, but it’s symbolic.”

“Semiology?”

“Of course.”

“Right; so her ears and eyes have symbolically been closed.”

“Yes. Now there’s blood from her mouth. My guess would be that, ah… that her, um… her tongue had been…” He broke off.

“Cut out?”

“Or split, or pinned,” Baldi finished. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it; it’s pretty horrid.”

“Yes. Well, anyway, there’s probably another coin in her mouth as well. I can see one in her hand here…”

“And this side as well.”

“…and with two on the eyes, two on the ears and the circle of coins around her, that makes twenty-nine in total. There’s one missing.”

“To make thirty, and those are commemorative 10 euro coins. Sterling…”

“Silver,” Baldi sighed. “Thirty pieces of silver for a traitor, and the last in her mouth to stop her talking.”

“And you think the fingers were broken to stop her  _writing_  whatever someone thinks she shouldn’t have heard or seen?”

“I think so. Whether it’s a warning, or purely ritual…”

“Paulo,” Tina sighed, “outside of the Catholic Church, no-one could even envisage doing  _that_  to another human being for ‘purely ritual’ purposes. But if it’s a warning, who to? No one ever comes here, you said it yourself.”

“Well then…”

“Then we can assume that someone was almighty pissed off with this poor cow.”

“Oh dear,” Baldi said. “It occurs to me then that they might still be almighty, um, annoyed when they come back.” He turned and left the room.

“Come back?” Tina called after him. “What do you mean…?”

Baldi clattered about in the back of the anchorage for a moment and then returned, clutching ten or fifteen pages of writing. “I saw these when I was looking for candles, but ah…”

“But you were looking for candles.” Tina took the pages and skimmed through. “I think these are from our girl.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because it begins: If you are reading this, I am probably dead. And the killer might just come back for them.”

“It says that?”

“No, Paulo; I say that.”

The thunder crashed again.

“Paulo.”

“Yes?”

“Find a rolling pin, a poker; anything long and fairly heavy. We may need to defend ourselves.”


End file.
